A Vision Softly Creeping
by Dorus the Walrus
Summary: The Doctor has become imprisoned in an insane asylum in the 1960s. He has no idea how he got there or what has happened to Amy or Rory.
1. Chapter 1

**A Vision Softly Creeping**

_Chapter 1_

Bridget English hurried down the street, her white heels clicking against the concrete. She was going to be late. She rubbed her eyes tiredly as she pulled her cape more tightly around her. She dodged past the men in suits, her quick steps becoming not quite a jog. She had woken up late again. She had just been so tired lately.

Suddenly Bridget stopped. Something was wrong. She could feel it. There was something strange about this day. She closed her eyes, trying to pinpoint it. All of the sounds of the people moving and birds singing ceased. She concentrated. And then she knew.

Turning slowly around, she came face to face with a police box. It hadn't been there yesterday.

Bridget took off in a run for the hospital, not daring to look behind her.

* * *

"So, Doctor, what are you going to do while me and Rory go off and celebrate our honeymoon?" Amy grinned at her husband as she linked her arms with Rory's.

"You've celebrating for almost two weeks," the Doctor mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" The Doctor turned to smile at them brightly. "Coralis is such an interesting planet. I'm sure there'll be plenty of things that I can find. Did you know that the core of Coralis is made up entirely of garbage? Planets from all across the universe would just dump their trash in this spot and over time it would just build and build until it became a planet! One of the most beautiful planets this side of the galaxy! Minus the smell, of course."

"Well, I think you've just killed the romantic mood, Doctor," Rory groused as his and Amy's arms fell side by side.

The Doctor jumped over to the TARDIS doors. "You say that now, but just you wait until the two of you are floating down in a boat for two down the River of Rotten Bananas."

The Doctor threw open the doors only to be greeted by a desolate sight.

It looked like it had been a great city once. The buildings were simply crumbling walls of dull metal, the sidewalks and streets were cracked and tall grasses were growing up in-between the pieces of concrete. There wasn't a soul in sight.

"I might have gotten a little off course," the Doctor muttered.

"What happened?" Amy breathed. "Where are we?"

"No idea," the Doctor said, looking around. His eyes fixated on the one lone building that remained intact. Not only did it look intact, but it looked pristine. There wasn't a single brick missing from its exterior. "One of these things is not like the rest."

"Maybe it's new?" Rory suggested.

"And who do you think built it, Rory?"

Rory stuttered, "Well, uh, yeah…"

The Doctor threw them a smile as he started walking towards the building. "A strange building in a creepy and desolate city? Now this is how you romance a guy!"

* * *

Bridget tried to calm her thrashing patient. The young man was trying to jerk out of the orderlies' arms, his wild, dark hair flinging into his eyes. "What did you give me?" There were almost tears in his eyes. "I can't… I can't… I have to break free… You're just human! Why can't I break free? It hurts my head… Why does it hurt my head?"

Bridget shushed him as she prepared the needle. "I haven't given you anything yet," she stated in a calm, soothing voice. "You'll feel better after I give you a light sedative."

She watched the young man's face as she administered the drug. It immediately became slack with sleep and fatigue. "I didn't even feel the needle go in," He muttered. His eyes fluttered closed.

"Hush, now. Everything's all right." She brushed her hand against his head, smiling softly as the man leaned desperately towards her touch in his sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Vision Softly Creeping**

_Chapter 2_

The Doctor blearily opened his eyes, glancing around at the white walled room he was in. He instinctively knew that he was in an asylum, but he didn't have a clue as to how he came to be there or where Rory or Amy were. He remembered landing, seeing the strange building, and then… that was it.

"Good morning." The Doctor pulled himself into a sitting position as the nurse came in. She was short and young-looking with cropped dark hair and large brown eyes. "How did you sleep?"

"Better than you, it looks like," the Doctor noted, taking in the black circles underneath her eyes.

The nurse gave a noncommittal shrug. "Do you feel like joining the others today?"

The Doctor brightened at the mention of new people to meet. "I'm always ready! Lead the way."

The nurse held the door open for the Doctor to bounce through. He entered the main area, taking in the faces of the inmates wandering the floors. No sign of Amy or Rory though. The Doctor turned around to look back at the nurse. "Excuse me, Nurse…?"

"English."

"Nurse English, I was wondering if you could tell me where my clothing and affects were?" The Doctor pulled at his white uniform. He missed his sonic screwdriver.

"Anything you came in with has been put into storage."

"And when I can get them back?"

"When you're well," The nurse replied in a clipped tone and made to move away.

"Sorry, one more question." The nurse turned back to look at the man. "How long have I been here?" The Doctor asked.

Nurse English shrugged again. "A couple of months. I'd have to pull your file to see the exact date."

The nurse left and the Doctor felt his mind reel. How could he have been here for months and not remember a thing? The Doctor made his way over to one of the barred windows. He looked out and saw London as it was in the 1960s. It was as familiar to him as any other time or place, more so in fact for all the time he had spent in this decade in this city. Scanning the streets he saw a blue police box and for a moment his hearts clenched painfully, knowing full well that it wasn't his police box.

The Doctor pulled himself away to the window to look at the inmates. "Cheer up, this isn't so bad," the Doctor chirped as he sat down next to a rather glum-looking fellow. "I was put inside a birdcage once."

"Traître!" The man snapped.

"Right! Well, nice talking to you!" The Doctor hopped up again, ready to move on, but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"The doctor is coming in for group therapy, so I need you to sit down over here." Nurse English guided him over to a circle of chairs.

The Doctor collapsed into one of them. "Well, the Doctor's already here, but I have to tell you I'm rubbish at psychology."

Nurse English gave him a warning look. "Calm down."

"I am a picture of serenity," the Doctor replied, his foot tapping restlessly against the floor.

Nurse English had only just corralled the inmates into their seats when the doctor came in. He was a nice-looking man who seemed naturally amiable and confident. He nodded to the Doctor. "It's nice to see you with us today. You probably don't remember me, but I'm Dr. Charles Fields."

The Doctor smiled at the human, amused by this man who seemed to think he knew more than the Time Lord.

"Perhaps you'd like to start the discussion?" Dr. Fields prompted.

"Oh! Yes! That'd be lovely! What to talk about?" The Doctor pondered this for a moment. "I've always been a bit fascinated with the molecular structure of hospital food, myself."

Nurse English and Dr. Fields shot each other amused looks. "Not exactly what I was looking for," Dr. Fields explained. "We're here to talk about why you're here."

"I don't know why I'm here. I don't know how I got here," the Doctor confessed.

"You're here to get better."

The Doctor shot the human a grin. "Yes, cryptic. Scary. How about we get to the heart of the problem? Specifically the fact that I have two of them. There are doctors here. There have to be, this is an asylum after all. Real doctors, mind you. Not that psychology isn't fascinating and all… Or how about the fact that you've yet to ask me for my name? What sort of asylum is this where the doctors don't even bother to find out their patients names?"

Dr. Fields blinked at the Time Lord's rapid fire speech. "Two hearts? You think you have two hearts?" His voice had taken on the tone that one would use to humor a crazy person. "Despite what you may think of this establishment, we ran a full workup on you when you came here. I can assure you, you have only one heart." The Doctor said nothing to this, merely shot the human a challenging look. Dr. Fields gave him another smile, this one a little exasperated. "I can prove it to you, if you like. Nurse, if you please?"

Nurse English got up and left the group for the nurses' station, returning a few minutes later with a stethoscope which she gave to Dr. Fields. The human man made his way over the Doctor, adjusting the stethoscope so he could hear the Time Lord's heartbeat. The man shook his head. "Just one heartbeat. You can listen if you like…" Dr. Fields stated, offering up the stethoscope.

"What?" The Doctor exclaimed, pushing the human away to press his fingers against his pulse. He could feel it, the double-pulse. Why couldn't the human hear it? Was this some sort of trick? "You don't hear that?" The Doctor demanded. He began to tap out the rhythm on the edge of his seat. "One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four."

Abruptly the Doctor ceased as a sense of cold dread overcame him at the sound of the tapping. No wonder he was in an asylum, he was starting to sound like the Master.

Dr. Fields and Nurse English shot each other worried looks.

"Mr. Foreman, I must state again, you've only got one heart," Dr. Fields said.

The Doctor blinked confusedly at the man. "What did you just call me?" He couldn't believe what he just heard.

"Mr. Foreman. Your name. John Foreman."

"That was never my name," The Doctor almost snarled. The sound surprised himself. He had never done that in this incarnation before. He had never been called that in this incarnation before.

Dr. Fields held up his hands in submission. "Okay, okay. Just calm down. What would you like us to call you?"

The Doctor leapt from his chair. He had enough of this. "There is something going on here and I am going to find out what it is! You can't keep me here!" The Doctor moved to one of the windows, examining the bars. He felt uneasy and paranoid, like he was just as crazy as the other inmates. He didn't understand and there was nothing that he didn't understand.

"Mr. Foreman, please calm down." The Doctor ignored them as he moved on to another window. He felt hands grab his arms but deftly dodged them, moving on. But the hands came again, stronger this time, turning him around and suddenly the Doctor felt very sleepy.


	3. Chapter 3

**A Vision Softly Creeping**

_Chapter 3_

"Doctor! DOCTOR!" Amy screamed as she tugged on the door. It wouldn't budge. The Doctor had just waltzed right in, unknowing that his companions remained locked outside. Amy grunted as she tugged harder. Something had trapped the Doctor and there was no way Amy was giving up.

"Get out of the way!" Rory commanded, rushing at the door and throwing his shoulder in it.

"Oh, Rory, are you okay?" Amy asked as her husband bounced off the door with a yelp.

Rory rubbed his shoulder as he turned to face her, eyes shut against the pain. "That actually really hurt." He complained.

He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes to look at her. Rory gasped and jumped back. He couldn't believe it.

"What?" Amy demanded. "What's wrong?"

"The TARDIS." Rory breathed

Amy looked over her shoulder. She nearly jumped out of her skin when her nose almost brushed the blue door of the TARDIS. The Doctor had parked it yards away. How did it appear here, right behind them, with no driver?

Amy quickly moved to stand next to Rory as the TARDIS began to slowly, so very slowly, blink out of existence, the sound of the universe filling their ears.

* * *

The Doctor once again awoke to find himself in his white-walled room. It was completely dark and there wasn't a sound in the air.

The Doctor pulled himself out of the bed. He expected the door to be locked, but it wasn't. There was no one in the hall, and, looking farther, he could see that the patient lounge and nurse's station were just as deserted. There was no one. Not even an orderly. What kind of institution was this?

There were doors lining the hall, each with its own little window. At the far end of the hall, opposite of the lounge, was a large door. It didn't have a little window and looked to be reinforced. The Doctor moved to one of the windows to peek inside. He expected it to be a room similar to his own with a patient sleeping inside, but aside from a bed it was empty. He looked into the next one. Again, nothing. What were the inmates? Why weren't they in their rooms?

The place was completely empty.

There was something intrinsically wrong with this place and knowing that the Doctor actually felt calmer, more at peace. He could handle this.

The Doctor moved to the exit near the nurse's station, but although his door hadn't been locked these were. The Doctor moved over to the nurse's station, intent on finding the keys.

The lights flooded the floor as they were suddenly turned on.

The Doctor whirled around to see Nurse English standing there, hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing?" Even though she was trying to appear in control the Doctor could tell that the nurse was nervous. She was alone and one of her patients was on the loose, of course she was nervous.

"Admiring your chair." The Doctor chirped as he hopped into the nurse's chair, giving her a relaxed smile in hopes of putting her at ease. He really didn't want to be sedated again. "It's a very comfy chair."

"Mr. Foreman, I need you to get back to your room. I don't want to have to call an orderly."

His smile became a little more fixed at her reply. Mr. Foreman, she had called him. He hadn't been lying when he said that John Foreman had never been his name. Susan had put it on her school forms as the name of her guardian. The Doctor wasn't even aware of the name she had given him until Barbara and Ian had arrived in that junkyard so many centuries ago.

"Who told you my name was John Foreman?" The Doctor asked.

"It was written on your report." Nurse English stated, stress and worry coloring her voice.

"Yes, but who wrote it?"

"Dr. Fields."

"And how did he know to write it?" The Doctor pressed.

The nurse let out a huff. "I don't know. I suppose the Director told him."

"Who's the Director?"

"I think it's time that you go to your room." Nurse English stated slowly and carefully. "I need to begin sorting out the patients' medications."

The Doctor nodded and jumped up, gesturing with his hand for her to lead the way. The nurse cautiously started to walk down the hall, shooting the Doctor a suspicious look.

"Of course, I wouldn't bother. There isn't any other patient except for me."

Nurse English came to halt, before turning around to face him. "Mr. Foreman, I assure you all patients are accounted for."

"Then why don't you have a look in one of the rooms?" The Doctor inquired, smirking at the young nurse.

"I don't need to look. I can hear them."

The Doctor stopped and listened. He heard the sounds of snoring reverberating through the hall. When had that happened? The Doctor moved to one of the doors and looked in to see the Frenchman that had called him a traitor from the day before curled up and asleep on the bed.

"Satisfied, Mr. Foreman?" The nurse asked. The Doctor could see that it was now she who was looking at him like he was the idiot.

The Doctor tried not to pout. This asylum was ruining all of his chances to show off. The Doctor turned away, once again noticing the strange door at the end of the hall. "What about that room? Does it have a patient?" The Doctor asked.

The nurse glanced at the door. A look of guilt fell on her face like a shadow. "Let's get you back to your room, now."


	4. Chapter 4

**A Vision Softly Creeping**

_Chapter 4_

The Doctor's hand immediately shot up the moment Dr. Fields asked if anyone had anything they would like to share. It startled one of the patients, a blonde haired man with a faraway look, nearly out of his chair.

"Yes, Mr. Foreman?" The doctor inquired, not noticing the slight flinch on the Doctor's face at the sound of the name.

"Yes, sorry, just wondering, but what's in the room at the end of the hall?" The Doctor asked, leaning back in his chair as if he had not a care in the world. "The one that requires a reinforced door?"

For a moment no one said anything. Nurse English fidgeted in her seat as Dr. Fields looked away. If it was possible the circles underneath her eyes had grown darker and she seemed pale and wan. She wasn't even bothering to pay attention to what was going on, her gaze firmly fixed on the window looking outside. Something was going on with her, the Doctor knew that for certain.

"That is not an appropriate question to ask, Mr. Foreman," Dr. Fields evaded. "This is group therapy. Why don't you tell me something about your past? Were you in the war?"

The Doctor almost laughed at that question. He suspected it wouldn't have been a pleasant laugh, and that would have just made him seem crazier.

"I was in the war," the nurse mumbled, her voice quiet and faraway.

The Doctor perked up at that. He had thought she was only about twenty-eight or twenty-nine. And what year was this? The Doctor would guess, with just the preliminary sights available to him from the window, around 1961. She would have only been about twelve. Much too young to have been in the military, and there was no accent coloring her voice. Her speech placed her as a native to London.

"Nurse…" Dr. Fields gently chided, but Nurse English suddenly wrenched up from her chair. She moved over to the windows, her gaze unfocused.

"Doesn't anyone feel that?"

"Feel what?" The Doctor asked, standing up slowly himself. Something was happening.

"I don't think I'm in control of my body anymore," the nurse stated.

The Doctor didn't comment on that, but was cautious in his approach. Something was going on, something dangerous, something strange. The Doctor came to stand next to the crazed nurse, sending a glance out the window only to do a double-take.

London was gone. Just darkness. Impenetrable.

"The patient… in that room. She's there because of me," the nurse muttered, her gaze still firmly locked on the outside. She seemed completely unaware of the fact that London was gone. "I failed. I should have done more… I should have..."

"Nurse English," The Doctor demanded, turning the nurse around so that he could face him. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Mr. Foreman."

The Doctor turned to see Dr. Fields standing in the middle of the area designated for group therapy, empty chairs all around him. The patients were gone and the room seemed suddenly dimmer, not as bright as it had been before.

"Mr. Foreman," Dr. Fields continued. "This questioning is pointless. She won't be able to answer any of your questions." The human man gave a sad smile, a compassionate look on his face.

It was patronizing. The Doctor had to stop himself from snapping at the man. "And why is that, _Doctor_?" He nearly spat.

Dr. Fields shook his head, that smile still on his face. "Because she's not a nurse. She's a patient. She's the only patient. Well, the only patient until you came, of course."

That threw the Doctor for a loop. "What?" He demanded. He didn't understand.

Dr. Fields seemed to realize that too, and the smile faded from his face. He looked… hurt. "You don't recognize me?" He asked, looking down. "The memories were damaged. I tried to reconstruct them as best as I could. The faces blurred together. Names were muddled. I thought for sure it was Charlesfields." Dr. Fields looked back up at the other man's face. "You were the only thing left."

"What are you talking about?" The Doctor demanded. "I don't understand."

Dr. Fields just shook his head. "I think it's time you met the Director."


	5. Chapter 5

**A Vision Softly Creeping**

_Chapter 5_

Dr. Fields led the Doctor out of the patient lounge.

The Doctor blinked, confused at what he was seeing. Everything was white. The doors, the ceiling, the floor. Not as though they just had a fresh coat of white paint, but white as in blank. As though there had never been anything there. There was only one hallway and at the end of the hallway was a door, white, with black letters blazoned across the front.

The Director.

Something was messing with his sense of time. Nothing felt quite right. To be honest, it hadn't been right the moment he entered the asylum. The mysterious sedatives that could make him fall asleep at a moment's notice, but he never once felt them pierce his skin. Never once _saw_ the needle enter his skin.

They were in front of the door. He hadn't even remembered moving.

With a sense of trepidation, the Doctor watched Dr. Fields slowly open the door. Inside, was another blank room, only this one had a desk. A big desk, made of solid oak, with a large leather chair.

There was a man in the chair with long white hair and wearing plaid pants and velvet jacket. He was smirking at the Doctor, as though he knew an awfully good secret and wasn't going to share.

The Doctor was looking into the face of the Doctor. It was his face. His first face. His _original_ face.

If the Doctor wasn't so very manly, he would have fainted.

"Well, my boy, it seems you've gotten yourself into a bit of mess, haven't you?" The old Doctor asked, tugging at the lapel of his jacket a little.

It wasn't long before the shock wore off.

The Doctor marched up to the desk, his face a blank mask of fury. "I demand you tell me what's going on." The Doctor snapped. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The old Doctor's face took on an exasperated and put upon expression as he stood up. "Oh ho! You _demand_, do you? And what are you going to do, hm? There's nothing you can do. There's nothing anyone can do now. We're moving."

The Doctor threw his hands up in frustration. "Always with the cryptic speeches! Why can't anyone just come out and say what's really going on?"

The old Doctor threw him a mocking glance. "I thought you liked puzzles. Oh, that's right. Except when it's about _you_. You could never stand to be the butt of a joke, could you? Well, if you weren't so _old_ you might have realized it by now. We're moving. Can't you feel the vibration? We're literally moving."

The Doctor did stop. He stood very, very still. And he felt it. A very faint humming, like his TARDIS, but so very weak.

The Doctor looked at the older version of himself, shock written on his face. The old Doctor nodded sagely. "We're merely holograms, I'm afraid. Aren't we, Charlesfield?"

"Chesterton," the Doctor corrected automatically, still trying to wrap his mind around what was happening.

The old Doctor nodded again. "Oh, yes, that's right. She forgot."

"She?" The Doctor asked. "The nurse… the patient… She's a Time Lady. She has to be. She's in here, in a TARDIS…. She was talking about the Time War…"

The old Doctor sighed. "She was injured. I couldn't heal her, so I sealed her up in time. Protected her. She's in that room, safely locked away, sleeping away the time. Bridget English, the nurse, is merely a dream. She's dreaming of some place called London. She wanted to be a nurse in her dream, she wanted to _fix things_. So, I made this for her. I took her memories and made a doctor and patients. But I wasn't the same after the war, either. I was hurt too, and it has been so long since I've had access to fuel. I managed to land somewhere on Earth, there was a rift…"

"Cardiff," the Doctor supplied. "I landed in Cardiff?" The Doctor let out a soft laugh. "I really was off course."

"… It lasted for a little while, but then the energy stopped-"

"The cracks are all closed," the Doctor croaked. "There are no rifts."

"-I've been stuck here for so long. Thousands of years. Then something happened. I don't know what. But then _they_ came. Daleks. They destroyed this entire area."

The Doctor nodded. "The Daleks at the Game Station. Year 200,100. The Fourth Great and Bountiful Human Empire," the Doctor stated mockingly.

The old Doctor shook his head. "I haven't got much energy left. I could barely keep up the constructs. I only did it if she was dreaming."

The Doctor suddenly realized that the pseudo-Chesterton was gone. But he couldn't be bothered with it. He felt like there was this great pressure on his chest, and he was nervous, and scared, and so very relieved. Because he _knew_ who she was. There could be only person who knew about his incarnation, and about Ian Chesterton, and raving revolutionary Frenchmen. He just needed the old Doctor to _say_ it. To make it real. He couldn't let himself believe it. Not until he knew for sure.

"Who is she?" The Doctor demanded quietly, the hope and fear coloring his voice. "What's her name."

The old Doctor ignored him, however. He sat back down on the chair with a great huff. "Don't ask me anymore questions, I'm tired." The old Doctor closed his eyes. "It's been so long since I've traveled, and I hurt so much."

The lights were getting darker and the humming had stopped. This strange TARDIS was dying. And if the TARDIS died, then _she_ died. She was completely depended on the machine.

The Doctor raced out of the room, barely noticing that the imagined asylum was gone, leaving the TARDIS's true form bare to him. But the room stayed the same, the room that contained the girl. It hadn't moved.

The Doctor flung himself against the wall, pulling against the handle. He growled in frustration when it wouldn't budge, finally pulling out his sonic screwdriver to no effect. He hit his fist against the door, noticing all the while as the dim lights grew darker. "No, no, no, don't do this!" He exclaimed. He ran over to the console, flipping switches and turning knobs, hoping that the power would last just a little bit longer. "You've still got plenty of fight in you! You've lasted for millennia! You can do this."

The Doctor gave up and ran towards the door, flinging it open to reveal Cardiff in the early 1800s, his own blue TARDIS was standing right across from them. She had sensed the other TARDIS, had acted all on her own in a desperate attempt to save its life. She took it an earlier Cardiff, when the Rift was still open and active, the time energy flowing out of it in waves. "Come on! Soak up the energy! It's right here! It's all..." The words became stuck in his throat as the Doctor turned back around. All the lights were out. The silence was oppressive. It felt like a tomb. The TARDIS was dead.

Suddenly, a loud reverberating echo filled the console room. The Doctor leapt towards the door, as the girl on the other side banged against it. She was awake, released from the suspended animation her TARDIS had put her in. The Doctor pressed his palms against the sealed door as her fists banged against it.

One. Two. Three. Four.

One. Two.

It stopped.

She was dead.

* * *

"So, what happened?" Amy asked as she and Rory climbed back aboard the TARDIS. Not only had the TARDIS disappeared, but the building had as well. The couple had started to panic pretty much immediately after that. Luckily, the TARDIS returned barely five minute later with her Doctor in tow.

"Oh, crazy space adventure, you know, the usual," The Doctor shrugged nonchalantly. "Have you ever been to the lost moon of Poosh?"

"How can you visit a moon that's lost?" Amy asked.

"Uh, I think the more important question is, how can a moon become lost? It's not exactly like you misplaced your car keys," Rory stated.

The Doctor hummed happily as the two humans bickered something about Amy still not having found Rory's car keys or something or another. He would fine. He would always be fine. And if Rory and Amy heard him sobbing for his lost granddaughter late at night, then they didn't mention it.


End file.
